Oregon
by queenpearl
Summary: From the Oregon Files. Ch2: From "Plague Ship". Oregon deals with Juan's Plan C, again...
1. Decoy

"Sometimes I wonder what part of your brain is missing because obviously you're lacking at least part of your brain to do this!"

"I'll admit I am far from a normal ship but normal is overrated!"

"Pah!"

Oregon looked over at her sister. Washington was an old ship. About the same age as she was before her miraculous "escape" from the scrapyard. She still looked in better shape but Oregon's ugly state was merely a facade.

"You gonna be alright here?" She asked, briefly glancing over the tops of the island. That Venezuelan frigate was closing faster than she'd liked but it couldn't be helped.

"It's a nice place. Much better than where I would've ended up. Thank you." Washington nodded.

"I wanted to save you."

"I know. You wanted to save all of us. And I _know_ it was within your power. But you must come to understand you can't save everyone."

"Doesn't change the fact that I could've." Oregon bowed her head.

"No, it doesn't. But know this dear sister, that for this sacrifice I'm buying you precious time. So I'd take that time if I were you."

A glance at her radar told Oregon she needed to get her stern in gear. She turned her bow for open water, magnetohydros revving up.

"You know, it's funny." Washington said and Oregon paused.

"What is?" She asked.

"Ever since you left our trade I've always wanted to be in one of your adventures, little sis." Washington replied.

The comment brought tears to Oregon's eyes. "I'll erect a plaque in your name." She said. Understatement of the century. Oregon would lobby for a shrine at CIA headquarters.

"Just promise me one thing and we're even." Washington said.

"What?"

"When you face down that frigate and yes, knowing you and your knack for pissing off warships..." Both chuckled at that. "Kick her ass for me!"

"With pleasure." Oregon couldn't afford to linger any longer. She longed to lean forward and give Washington a nuzzle, to just _touch_ her sister one last time. But the missiles were inbound and she had to get out of dodge.

"Make it good." She called as she headed out to sea. Washington understood. She always did.

"Oh you know I will. Good seas, my sister."

Oregon didn't look back even as she could hear the explosions behind her. The missiles had made their mark. Washington, true to her quiet nature, didn't make a sound as she was struck. Most likely the hits had set off the pre-planted charges and killed her instantly. A merciful death and one she deserved. Far better than the lingering demise she faced at the scrapyard. But that didn't change anything for the sister left behind. Washington was the only sister she had left. All the others had met their ends either on sandbars or the scrapyard. One had been gunned down by the Chinese in a case of mistaken identity. That one had been particularly poignant for Oregon. As soon as she'd heard the news she'd locked herself in her berth and wouldn't come out for weeks! Washington's death didn't present the same kind of outpouring from her. There was a sense of peace in knowing Washington had gone on her own terms. A death Oregon herself hoped she would have when the time came. But she would still grieve. She was the last of her class, the soul survivor. An old quote came back to her, old enough that she couldn't remember who said it but no words could've rung truer to her then. _"The dead are to be envied. The living to be pitied."_ She looked down at her reflection, seeing an old delipitated freighter staring back at her. But it was a ruse, everything about her now was a ruse. She didn't mind, she loved her job. But right now the sunken eyes didn't do much good for her. She pulled the specially designed contacts out and in her grief filled rage tossed them far out to sea. They were expensive but she didn't care. She made enough money to easily buy herself a new pair. She carried a full case onboard anyways. Instead of the previous green eyes, a pair of lightened amber stared back at her. The unusual color made more than one ship ask if she was a blind but Oregon's vision had always been excellent. Right now, it was blurred with tears. She closed her eyes, allowing the wetness to streak down her cheeks. She had time to grieve. The frigate wasn't coming to attack her any time soon since it believed she was dead. __

Sucking in a breath after a few minutes, she was ready to move. Washington would linger in her heart for quite a long time. She would never go away completely. But the least Oregon could do now was fulfill her promise. She glanced back behind her at the spot where the island used to be. Now there was just empty horizon. She'd opened the distance between them quite swiftly. "Okay sister," she said, gathering herself. "I'll finish this for you!"


	2. Plan Cs

The canal was so narrow that most ships would not dare enter it and none would even think about going in without a pilot. Oregon was not most ships nor was she like any other. Her wide bulk barely fit in the canal as she entered, her bridge wings having just feet to spare from the cold wet rock that lined either side of the canal. Up ahead were a series of bridges, designed not to raise up when a ship passed like most traditional draw bridges did, but instead to drop down and rest on top of the sediment while a ship passed over them. Oregon had to hand it to the Greeks, they knew their engineering.

As Oregon sailed along she monitored the radio. Juan was busy from the sound of things and if the alarms were anything to go by, Plan A had just been shot, perhaps literally! As Linda's team returned with Max Hanley's son, Oregon sensed not all was quite right.

"Okay, give me the bad news." She said.

"Juan's creating a diversion." Linda replied.

Oregon bit back a groan. Less than a week ago, Juan had pulled an ace out of his pocket with a stunt that had Oregon fighting not to faint. "Plan C?" She asked. Linda nodded and the freighter groaned again.

She was not surprised when she had to push to full throttle, heading straight for the bridges. Now mind, she would've had to plow straight through them anyways but now there was more of a sense of urgency. Juan was headed for the rendeavous point and Oregon could not afford to be late.

She came up to the first bridge, her armored bow striking it with all the force of an 11,000 ton freighter doing 10 knots. She dare not risk going faster in such a tight waterway. The bridge was no match and a little quick burst from Oregon's magnetos and it gave way. Splitting in two, Oregon rode over the top of it as it fell, sending it slamming into the sediment with a snap of its cables.

Up ahead she could see the second bridge maybe a few hundred yards away and Juan with, shit! He had at least 3 vehicles on his tail and while he was doing a brilliant job of avoiding the bullets fired at him, even he could not dodge forever. Oregon increased her forward speed to 15 knots, knowing she would be cutting it close. If she was just half a second off, Juan would be smashed into a paste between her bulk and the canal wall.

The second bridge screamed as her bow sliced into it, this one not giving as easily as the first. Oregon's momentum pushed her bow clear of the water and for a second she sat on top of it, suspended half in the air like some kind of propped up museum display, then the bridge's internal supports gave way and the cables snapped with a shriek of wailing metal. Oregon didn't expect it to give way when it did and was unbalanced as it came down. She rolled slightly, her flank scraping the canal wall which earned a few groans from her as she wouldn't deny that that maneuver left her with a few bruises. _"Nothing a bit of paint won't fix."_ She thought, seeing the irony in a ship seemingly as dilapidated as her seeing a proper paint job. Of course her definition of proper differed greatly from most ships'.

Juan was almost directly above her and Oregon quickly got her ballast tanks into trim, lining herself up perfectly with the stretch of rim he was at. Originally, the plan called for Oregon to stop, lower her gangplank and let Juan walk across. That wasn't going to work now. He was almost out of gas and his 'pals' from earlier were closing in.

 _"Oregon, open your boat garage."_ He ordered.

"Why would I do that?" She wondered even as she complied with his order. Then it hit her and her eyes widened. "You crazy son of a...!"

Juan's vehicle soared off the edge of the rim at 50 mph, just barely making it into the garage. One of the following cars wasn't so lucky and Oregon took some pleasure in feeling it break against her hull even if she would have a nasty scar there. Exciting the canal, she increased speed to 30 knots, just slow enough to ensure a comfortable ride for her crew while at the same time ensuring she'd be out of Greek waters by daybreak. After this latest fiasco, a visit by the Coast Guard was the last thing she wanted!

She turned her attention to her crazy captain. "Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo." She growled.

Juan knew that his ship only used his full name when she was beyond angry and he gulped, knowing just how screwed he was. "Yes?" He tried in the sweetest, kindest tone he could manage. It didn't save him.

For the next 3 hours, Oregon gave him the hardest, loudest, harshest chewing out he had ever heard! He was actually quite pleased with her despite being the target of her chewing out. She would make even his old drill instructors blush.

Finally, Oregon took a deep breath and said in a perfectly calm voice "No more Plan C's for at least a reasonable amount of time."

"No promises that I won't have to use one." He replied.

"I said _reasonable_ dammit!"


	3. Prologue The Yard

She was an old ship, too old to be considered useful in her trade anymore. She used to be a lumber hauler, carrying large loads from Seattle to ports in Alaska but containerization had found its way into her industry. Not that she minded. She was too old to be bothered by anything really. Her once lovely green paint had turned brown and red as rust took over everything. Her bones hurt more and she struggled a bit more in the mornings to keep up with the faster pace of today.

She looked down as the yard manager came up to her. It'd been a long 4 years since she first came to this place, her owners putting her up for sale yet refusing to sell for anything other than the right price. From the look on his face, she could see that wait had come to an end.

"You're popular all of a sudden, Oregon. Four different buyers want to take a look at ya." He said.

Oregon merely sighed, resting her head on the dock, nose within his reach. "So predictable." He chuckled and started stroking it. A shaky purr escaped her. "You'll be missed here, Oregon. I hope you know that." She sighed again, allowing him to continue his petting. As he did her mind wondered. She knew nothing of the buyers here to see her but she was certain a majority were scrapyards. She was too old and weak to care. She'd lived a good life. 30 years in the lumber trade. Her sisters were also being sold off at a rate faster than a Shuttle's SRBs. It was only a matter of time before she too found her end.

The petting had her relaxed enough for the buyers to enter the ring. Eyes closed, she only half listened. She didn't care who bought her. A scrapyard was a scrapyard. She only hoped they'd be humane enough to give her the needle before they started tearing her apart. The auctioneer had his work cut out for him as apparently, she was popular. Two of the buyers backed out, leaving the other two to their own device and it was a fierce battle from the sound of things.

"SOLD! To Mr. Juan Cabrillo. Congratulations sir."

The crowd began to disperse and Oregon's curiosity grew. She knew of most scrapyards in the Pacific and Cabrillo didn't sound like he was from one. The auctioneer would've listed it surely, unless it was an illegal operation. She prayed it wasn't that yard in Malaysia. Her fear and hatred grew at the thought of that place. Oh what she wouldn't give to see it shut down with a well placed missile! She didn't realize she'd been growling until a voice said "Easy girl, I'm not here to hurt ya."

She sighed. "Then why are you here?" She asked, opening her eyes. She stared up into a young and handsome man of Spanish descent. He looked like a typical Californian, complete with the bleached blonde hair. It was his eyes that startled her. Bright ocean blue. She was no stranger to unusual colors. Her own eyes were a faded amber with the pupil a deep brown. "If not to take me to a scrapyard?"

"No scrapyards for you girl. Not today at least and if you're good, I can promise longer." He grinned.

She snorted. "Don't tease me boy. I was plying the Pacific before you could even walk."

"You'll be plying a lot more waters than that in the next few years." He said. "Maybe even make a nice few shiny pennies along the way."

"I'm listening." She was curious despite herself. This man sounded like a rich kid who didn't know the first thing about handling a ship. She was about to learn just how wrong she was.


	4. Agent Sicilian

Oregon had not actually met all her agents face to face. Some would argue it was safer that way. In case one was caught they couldn't implicate the others. But when she recruited, Oregon preferred to have some physical identity to go with a name. Even if that name wasn't the real one. Sometimes ships were recruited indirectly, through agents she already had in place. In those cases Oregon preferred not to know their identities for they were usually the deep undercover type who she was not willing to risk exposing just for the sake of seeing their face. But when one of her key agents, the one who was responsible for sending her such valuable information for years, was one she had never met, well that was a mystery Oregon couldn't refuse to explore any longer. And since she had time, she chose to do what her NUMA friends did and explore.

Oregon had taken the bold and risky step of requesting a meeting with the ship known only by her alias, Sicilian. Sicilian was more than a bit of an enigma. Even El'efant had been unable to provide much information. All he and Oregon knew was Sicilian was a ship, one with apparently deep connections and an even deeper disguise. To fool El'efant was not a small feet. It was a credential in of itself. Whoever Sicilian was, they were _good._

Oregon approached the port of Liverpool. Entering a first world country had its own set of risks and there was almost certainly someone at MI6 who had their eye on her. The stringent rules required Oregon to come prepared with all her papers handy. This time, she was using her Iris alias which had come in handy throughout southern Europe. It worked well here as well. As far as most authorities were concerned, Iris was a former Panamanian flagged freighter that had been caught by the US Navy smuggling their $100 million a few years back. Thus it was expected for her to be impounded and then later sold to a private but more reputable country. Thus the Bermuda flag hung from her flag-staff. It was not a flag Oregon was accustomed to flying but she would admit, it looked good on her and matched her red hull, currently far more spic and span than what she normally wore. At one time, she would've loved to look pretty, now she was surprised at how repulsive she found a clean hull. Even if her hull wasn't actually a rust covered hulk, she had grown accustomed to the look. But that was neither here nor there, Oregon renewed her search for her agent.

Sicilian's orders had been specific. Just south of the Kingsway Tunnel at the northern most berth at Albert Dock. Oregon made a gentle turn out of the River Mercy into the docks, ignoring the stares she got from the other ships, mostly passenger ships, docked there. _"I must be an unwelcome sight."_ She thought. _"At least my hull is 'prettier'."_ All the way back there was a ship docked, a medium sized passenger liner. Compared to the behemoth cruise ships a few berths down she was moderate in build and stature. But Oregon would say she was far more lovely. Her lines were graceful and sleek. Her superstructure was rectangular, following the lines of her midsection perfectly. Unlike the cruise ships, she did not have the appearance of a floating skyscraper. Most curious was the lack of a bulbous bow. Most modern ships, Oregon included after her modifications, had the bulb for improved efficiency. But whoever designed her, Oregon had to agree with them. A bulb would just look foul on her. Her knife like prow simply wasn't up to the job aesthetically. Oregon did note some curvature to her flanks however that smoothed the water at her stern, so even without the bulb she did have some efficiency when cutting through the water.

Her green eyes flickered over to Oregon and without moving a muscle she whispered quietly as the freighter approached "The ice is like a knife, cutting through the flesh." Oregon stiffened, eyes flitting back and forth to ensure no one was watching. She knew a passphrase when she heard one. Just one of many her agents used when contacting her. It was a means of ensuring identity. "The maiden is strong, her song carries through the night." "The ocean seeks her prize as it must always claim its bounty." "But through mercy, some shall survive." Oregon took a breath. "Sicilian." A nod. "Oregon."

"I must admit, you have me at somewhat of a loss." Oregon admitted. "Actually, quite the loss. You know my name, my _real_ name. And yet I do not know yours." "And it is for that knowledge alone that you seek me out?" Sicilian asked. Her green gaze was piercing, as though she was searching for something deep within Oregon's soul. Oregon was not used to such a strong gaze and shifted uncomfortably. Sicilian kept her eyes for a moment longer before granting Oregon her authority and looked away. "Knowledge is power Oregon. Even the lowliest tugboat knows this. All ships know my true name and yet that is only half of who I am. Be clear about what you seek." The way Sicilian held herself, those eyes, she seemed so wise and ancient. Here was a ship who had seen it all, lived it all. She had touched the stars, and sailed the deepest depths. Her knowledge, her secrets, could not be shared with anyone and yet she was giving Oregon her permission to do just that. Should the freighter decide it. But Oregon was not power hungry, despite her curiosity in the matter, it was not her place to seek that kind of knowledge. "Your secrets are your own." She replied. "I seek merely your true name." Sicilian smiled, her first true genuine smile she had showed Oregon. It lit her green eyes in a way Oregon hadn't thought possible. No, it lit up her soul. Once again, Oregon was reminded of the power this ship held and briefly she feared those who she knew would stop at nothing to steel that power for themselves. Sicilian seemed to know what she was thinking for she gave Oregon a reassuring nod. "No one, machine or man, will know my true existence. None except for you and even then your knowledge will be limited. As you requested. I see now I was wise to choose your path." She said. "I have no, practical reason to request your name Sicilian." "Curiosity is practical, Oregon. It was curiosity that lead to my rediscovery. Curiosity was my guide to the modern world. It is far from a sin, Oregon. It is a gift." "Very well, then for my own curiosity. I request this knowledge." "Then you shall have it. Come." Sicilian led her deeper into the berth, away from prying eyes. The pair halted with Sicilian's gaze on an inconspicuous hotel across the street. "The base of my ancestors. The fleet I once served."

Her voice grew deeper, stronger somehow as though the hidden power she spoke of was coming to the surface. Her superstructure flickered as the sight beyond it disappeared. In its place rose four majestic funnels where there was once only one. A pair of perfectly raked masts both fore and aft completed the picture. And that green gaze, more intense than ever, was staring straight into Oregon's soul once more. "How..." The freighter breathed, in awe of what she was seeing. "Holographic projectors. They're only prototypes but Overhalt felt fit to give them to me. It allows me to be inconspicuous when I wish to avoid crowds." "Like now." "Exactly. See, you rely upon repugnance for your work. No one gives you a second glance because they're so repulsed by your appearance they cannot believe you would be involved in anything, let alone a world class spy ring. I do things the exact opposite. I depend upon attracting people to me. And the more I can draw in, the better. As my true self, I don't even need the effort. Ships, and people alike, flock to me." "I can understand why. You are royalty, a queen among ships." Oregon said. "And do you think me a queen, Oregon?" "What do you wish me to think?" Oregon replied. "What you think and what you feel are up to you. I have no desires to control that. I only use my powers of seduction for good. To control you in that manner would make me no better than the ones we are fighting." "You are as wise as you are beautiful, Titanic." "Oregon, you will make this old ship blush!" "Tis only the truth, lass." Sicilian pressed her prow to Oregon's. "Is there anything else you wish to know?" "I desire, like any mortal would, to know everything. But I shall not make that request. You may shall, what you feel I am worthy to know." Oregon replied. Sicilian nodded approvingly. "You are indeed wiser than I, Oregon. I have not seen a ship with your judgement in quite some time. Consider your wish granted."

And so the two talked, Sicilian doing most of it but Oregon occasionally chiming in. Each time brought about a laugh or some form of praise from the older ship. Oregon, for all her brilliance, had a humble heart and soul. And that, more than anything, made her worthy to the greatest secrets of the shipping world. The secrets of Titanic.


	5. Introducing Tevat

Tevat was the find of a lifetime for NUMA. After 8500 years she was discovered in the ice by Oregon and recovered by Macedonian. And now in the backwaters of New York, she was brought back to life by Arleigh Burke. Thawed out over several months, she opened her eyes to a brand new world.

The voices were unfamiliar, the language odd. She didn't know what to say in reply. Dark gold eyes peered out through thick lashes, staring up at a large ashen colored vessel who was staring down at her with eyes as blue as the sky. There were odd markings on her bow and upon her fore-deck was this odd shaped contraption with a long barrel in the front. There was the strange language again. Tevat didn't recognize the words but the tone was clear. She nodded crisply. The other ship seemed relieved and went chattering away in that odd tongue of hers again. Now another ship joined them, this one clearly made of wood. She spoke a few words with the odd vessel and then turned to Tevat.

"Can you understand me?" She asked. Tevat blinked when she recognized her tongue. Could this ship really speak her language as well? Slowly, she nodded. "Can you tell me your name sweetheart?" Tevat didn't recognize the word, but she knew the soft tone. It was almost, motherly. Any misgivings she had instantly went away. "Tevat." She answered. "My name is Tevat." "Do you remember what happened to you Tevat?" The motherly ship asked. "There was a rush of water. My people, they were frightened. They created me to help them escape. So I took them far away, and we lost sight of land. For days we, drifted. There was no wind to fill my canvas. And then the world became cold and unwelcoming. We found land again and the people went ashore. I stayed in a small cove but the weather got colder and colder and... that's all I remember. I thought I had died. How did-how did you find me?" Tevat asked. "By sheer accident. We had no idea you even existed. Well, there were rumors. Legends for centuries that circulated but few of us ever... well, we know better now." Tevat frowned. "How-how long has it been?" She asked. "By your calendar, a little more than 8700 years." The motherly one replied and Tevat was speechless with shock.

 _SEVERAL MONTHS LATER, NEW YORK CITY_

The old freighter was a bit of a standout amongst the behemoth tankers she was surrounded by. But if she thought she was a standout, the golden hulled transport beside her was even more so. Oddly enough, she looked a little familiar. She turned a dark golden gaze on the freighter. "I believe that it is you I owe my new life to." She said in halting, accented English. Tevat had picked up the new language quickly but sometimes she had trouble with her pronunciation. "Why is that?" Oregon, for her part was half confused, half wary. This stranger obviously knew who she was and as she didn't have the same information, she instinctively was on guard. "Oh put your hackles down, Oregon." Tevat continued, adding a smile into her voice to reassure her wary companion. "I can see you don't recognize me but I'm a friend. And I must say, I look a far sight better in the sun than I did in an ice block." Oregon blinked, then blinked again. "You- you're..." She stammered. "Tevat." Tevat said, holding out a rigging line. Oregon took and shook it with one of her own. "You had me at a disadvantage." She admitted. "Not for long I'm sure. Given the work you do." Tevat leaned in with a knowing wink. "And regarding that, I have a proposition for you." Now Oregon was curious. "I'm listening." She said. "I'm old. My only use is to tour but doing so means I have access to many ports. Most of them in the far east where many Western ships cannot go. And I have spent the last several months listening to every language my ears can pick up. So I am very lingual as well." "Where's your next port of call?" Oregon asked. "Tel Aviv." Tevat replied. "You'll have information on how to contact me when you arrive." Oregon replied and just like that she gained another valuable informant. Although she had no idea how valuable Tevat would turn out to be!


	6. Sakir

Sakir was different than most private mega yachts. In looks she had no equal. An elegantly flared bow, amber eyes and long lashes made for a lovely face. And she had the etiquette befitting of the choice yacht of the Emir. It was in her attitude that she set herself apart from her piers. Unlike most rich yachts she was neither snooty nor lazy. She enjoyed hard work and wasn't shy about getting her hull dirty. This was most evident in her choice of bonded. Oregon had been an interesting choice for a bodyguard when they'd first met. But she had more than proven herself to the task. Soon Sakir called upon her anytime she left her home waters and in the intervening years she had fallen in love with the freighter. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the thrum of life within her soul. Their bond. Oregon was close by and Sakir smiled at the thought of seeing her beloved again. She'd been disappointed when Oregon was playing around in the Arctic and had been unable to join her at the start of the voyage. She was on her way now though, in time to sail to Bermuda together. Sakir was looking forward to that. Oh the things they would share in the shadow of the Hamilton skyline.

Her attention was diverted when she spotted another ship, passing close by. She was making good time too, traveling at least 15 knots. Shipping was common in this part of the world and Sakir wouldn't have given her a second glance if not for the malevolence she was giving off. Oregon had taught Sakir not only how to fight but also how to recognize a potential opponent. She eyed the other ship more closely and grimaced. "That has to be the ugliest ship I've ever seen." She said to herself. No sooner had she said that than all hell broke loose.

The ugly ship was surrounded in an ethereal blue glow. She simply vanished from Sakir's sight although the yacht could see a wake persisting, marking her path. The flash of energy generated a wave dozens of feet high that raced towards her. Sakir reversed one engine and put her rudder hard over, bringing her fore and aft thrusters to bear. All her tricks weren't enough. She hit mostly broadside at about a 75 degree angle. The wave curled as it curled up against her hull. It crested, smashing windows and flooding rooms, causing massive internal damage. Sakir had no time to scream. She couldn't even if she did. She was too frightened for that. All she could do was cry out to the one ship she wanted, no _needed_ to see the most. _"_ _Oregon, help me!"_

Oregon was just as frightened as Sakir but for different reasons. She had heard the yacht's cry for help. That coupled with Kenin's warning was more than enough to spur her into action. The corrupt Russian Admiral's taunts still tang loud in her ears. She wouldn't be surprised if the bastard was laughing right now. Once she had rescued her bonded she would put a missile so far up that man's ass he would taste the explosive! By the time she reached the site there was no sign of Sakir and Oregon's increasingly desperate calls went unanswered. The freighter spotted a red shape in the water and made for it. Sakir had turned completely upside down, held up only by the air she kept in her lungs. Air that was bleeding out as the water rushed in. Oregon lowered her massive head, got her jaws around the front of Sakir's keel and pulled. Sakir now broke clear of the water, her entire hull shuddering as she coughed up a storm. Once through she leaned back, settling against Oregon's hull as the freighter held her. She looked up at her with eyes barely open. "I knew you'd come for me." She rasped. "I will _always_ come for you." Oregon replied in the gentlest tone she could manage. Underneath her soft exterior she was a boiling seething cauldron of anger. "I will destroy Kenin for this!" "He was behind your man's arrest in the Artic wasn't he?" Sakir asked and it took Oregon a moment to realize she had cursed his name out loud. "Yes. I know now that Kenin is making something with one of Tesla's ineventions." "Like a vanishing ship." Sakir suggested. "Exactly. Sakir I'm sorry I didn't want you caught up in this." "Like I wouldn't have anyways." Laughing was painful and Sakir was forced to cut her chuckled short. "Don't strain yourself." Oregon said, moving to support her more. "Won't-gah wont make any difference." Sakir gasped as Oregon lifted her more. "What do you mean?" There was an edge in Oregon's voice. An edge that was her last attempt to deny reality. _"_ _Oregon, my love."_ Sakir spoke through the bond now. Here her voice was as strong and unimpeded as she needed it to be. _"_ _Sakir..."_ Oregon's voice was full of such desperation it broke Sakir's heart to leave her like this. She tilted her head, muzzle brushing her cheek. "I will, always... be watching... over you..." She coughed. Shifting her muzzle slightly to the left, she pressed their lips together. Oregon put as much passion into the kiss as she dared without causing Sakir anymore pain. Sakir, being a bit more precocious than her partner, pressed her advantage as far as she could. "I love you." She whispered against Oregon's mouth. "Not nearly as much as I love you." Oregon nearly sobbed. Sakir pressed for one last kiss before her strength failed her. The yacht went limp, her bow dropping and her muzzle impacting against Oregon's shoulder. She took one last shuddering breath that revealed lungs filled with blood and water. The last thing she heard was Oregon's pain filled scream.

"NO! SAKIR NO! ANCIENTS NO! NO! NO!" Oregon wailed to the heavens. She felt it when the bond broke and it filled her with a pain unlike anything she had ever experienced. She'd take being shot at with ADCAPS over this! The void was worse than any submarine. She sat there, holding the ship she loved more than anyone else. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to feel cold, closed off to the world. But she couldn't find the strength to even feel a slight annoyance at the fact that the Coast Guard would be showing up soon and taking Sakir away from her. Cutting her body up into razor blades. All she could feel was a deep bone crushing sadness.

Slowly, as though she physically struggled with the action, she managed to pull a small box from one of her cargo holds. She's spent days rehearsing what she was going to say and years working up the courage just to say it. Now, there was not but a dead audience to speak to. From the box she removed a gold band. Ever so gently, she placed it on Sakir's port front wire and kissed the appendage lightly. "My heart will always belong to you." She whispered, placing a long gentle kiss on Sakir's forehead.

There would be others who Oregon would come to care for. And a fellow freighter who would capture her heart like Sakir had done once so many years ago. But Oregon would never bond again. Not in the way she had done with Sakir for such a bond can only be made once. For it is the bond of souls, and Oregon's now resides within the stars. Off limits to the mortal realm.


	7. Aggie and Oregon 1

_"Why do I always get myself in these situations?!"_ Oregon thought to herself. Not for the first time she ranted and raved at Mr. Murphy for how often his stupid laws always kicked her in the ass! This time it was a Kilo that threatened not just her but two other ships as well. Civilians. One, a tanker was in the most danger and Oregon couldn't protect her without taking hits herself. Her reinforced hull could manage a torpedo but two or three would finish her! "Aggie Johnson." She radioed the tanker. "There's a torpedo coming in towards you 10 o-clock." There was a pause as Aggie presumably processed what she just heard. "Copy." was her short and clipped reply. Even from this distance Oregon could see her fear as she moved her rudder back and forth, making evasive maneuvers. It was good for morale but against a modern guided torpedo gesture was useless.

"Okay, okay..." Oregon took a deep breath, knowing what she had to do. She turned her attentions to the pair of torpedoes in her bow. They weren't hers. She had um, 'confiscated' them earlier to use as evidence that the Iranians were buying Svhivals from the Russians. The plan had been to offload them onto a US submarine but the rules had changed. Now these 'whales' as they were called, were her only hope. She readied the port side one, slowed to 20 knots and opened her bow doors and fired. She marveled at its speed. The Svhival was a marvel of engineering. Oregon couldn't hold its origin against it too much to grant it that! It streaked along at over 200 knots, helped by a phenomenon known as super-cavitation, where the water basically boiled around it creating a makeshift airpocket that reduced the resistance to allow the torpedo to reach these fantastic speeds.

The timing was critical. Oregon's torpedo was set to strike the Kilo exactly when Aggie's torpedo would hit. But Oregon had one last trick to play. Not even the Iranians, as crazy as they were would be nuts enough to fire multiple torpedoes into crowded waters without guide wires. Her plan was to prematurely detonate her torpedo close enough to the Kilo to cut the guide wires without sinking the sub. She would love to, don't get her wrong but doing so would cause an even larger international incident than she'd already created today and she was in no mood to entertain Langston Overholt's rants!

The calculations were complex but Oregon had it nailed down to a fine art by now. Years of experience had taught her to become a rudimentary genius in combat. With her torpedo 50 yards from the Kilo and the submarine's a mere 70 yards from Aggie, Oregon detonated the Svhival. When there was no explosion on Aggie, Oregon breathed a sigh of relief knowing her plan had worked. Aggie looked relieved as well! She looked at Oregon with a grateful smile which the freighter returned. "How did you know?" She asked. "Find me again and I'll tell you." Oregon replied in a sly tone. Aggie could only pout as the seemingly dilapidated freighter steamed away at a speed that Aggie couldn't hope to match! It left the tanker with many questions but also with a feeling of hope that she'd see the mysterious ship again...


End file.
